


The Words You'll Never Hear Him Say

by grantaire (alli_luvv)



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe- Deaf Character, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-31
Updated: 2013-03-06
Packaged: 2017-11-27 14:58:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/663313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alli_luvv/pseuds/grantaire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras was always a passionate revolutionary, a natural leader, and a lover only of his causes. Grantaire was always his perfect opposite. And you know what they say about opposites? They attract.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Modernish AU. I did a little research on hearing loss and such for this, the type Enj has is sensorineural hearing loss. It can occur from a variety of different causes, including head trauma, and causes damage to the inner ear. It can be treated by emergency surgery shortly after the trauma occurs, but the success of the surgery is highly variable. Oh and for reference, everything in quotes "like this" is spoken, and everything in apostrophes 'like this' is signed.

When he was fourteen, Enjolras became deaf. He was at a protest that turned violent quickly and without warning, and sustained a traumatic head injury that stripped him of his hearing forever. He passed out in the street to the screams of the protesters, and woke up on a hospital bed to silence. 

Enjolras picked up sign language quickly, throwing himself into the study of it with the gusto that he usually reserved solely for his schoolwork and the causes he supported. His closest friends did the same. Combeferre, Marius, and Courfeyrac became his interpreters at school, giving voice to the words that his quick hands signed. Over time, Enjolras’s deafness became something else that made him special. He still had the ability to captivate audiences with his passionate speeches, even if his beautiful voice was no longer saying the words.

When he was eighteen, Enjolras formed Les Amis, a club for all those who shared his views and causes, at his college. That was how he met Grantaire. Grantaire was his total opposite, his flipside, his reverse. He was day, Grantaire was night. He was sunshine, Grantaire was darkness. He was an idealist, a leader, Grantaire was a cynic, and content to follow, but never for the sake of the cause. Enjolras was driven, Grantaire was not. Grantaire was a drunkard, Enjolras never touched a drop.

And that was why they couldn’t help being drawn to each other. 

Enjolras was furiously signing away at the front of the cafe, Combeferre trying his hardest to interpret, but the speed at which his hands were flying made that a difficult task. Grantaire just smirked from his table in the corner, knowing perfectly well that Enjolras would not have been so worked up if it weren’t for him.

“Grantaire, if you aren’t going to be helpful, then why don’t you just leave? I’m sick of you always being- ENJ, THAT IS QUITE A RUDE WORD AND I DON’T CARE IF I’M INTERPRETING, I AM NOT SAYING THAT- to put it in much nicer words than Enj did, drunk out of your mind and laughing at our cause. Just get out, I don’t want to see your face again tonight.” Combeferre’s hands flew, signing the words as he spoke them, for Enj’s benefit, and so Enj would know that Ferre most certainly did not approve of some of the naughty words that he had picked up and slipped into his angry outburst. Grantaire just laughed from where he sat. Being yelled at by Enjolras was never very intimidating, because Combeferre always recited the words with little emotion. It struck quite a contrast from the fair boy standing in front of all the Amis, who was literally fuming.

“Fine, Enjy. Seems like I’m not wanted here. Enjoy your cause, and your friends, and most of all, your precious little life without me in it!” He slurred his words, and Courfeyrac signed his parting speech for Enjolras. Grantaire got up, grabbed his bottle, and staggered out of the cafe. He heard Courf and Ferre yelling Enj’s words after him, telling him that he was too drunk for his own good, and he can’t possibly leave in that state. He shrugged their words off and threw up an obscene gesture that everyone could understand, even a dunce like him who, according to them, was so dumb he couldn’t grasp sign language. 

He chuckled darkly to himself. If only they knew that he was a better signer than all of them, save Enjolras. His little sister had become deaf from a bad illness as a baby, and his whole family was fluent in sign language so that they could communicate with her. Grantaire remembered sitting by her bedside every night, signing the fairy tales he spun for her until her eyes fluttered closed as sleep claimed her. He murmured the words as he signed, even though he knew she couldn’t hear them. 

Yes, Grantaire was a kindhearted, loving, sweet boy, before the drink consumed him. It erased all the parts of him that everyone loved and brought out everything that was bad within him. The parts of him that everyone, including himself, hated. He staggered down the road, away from the cafe, his thoughts consumed with self loathing. He felt a hand on his shoulder.

He whipped around, fists in the air, ready to fend off any attacker or drunken idiot looking for a fight. His heart dropped when he saw who it was.

“Enjolras,” he breathed out. The golden boy’s face contorted with frustration. Courf and Ferre had gone looking for Grantaire in different directions, their panic for their beloved friend’s safety had let the fact that Enjolras had no way to communicate with him momentarily slip their minds. Enjolras wracked his brain, searching for signs that Grantaire might have picked up from his times in the cafe that could explain the situation.

He received the shock of his life when Grantaire signed perfectly, ‘What do you want? Why did you follow me?’ Enjolras shook his head and signed back in awe.

‘I thought you didn’t know how to sign.’

‘You all just assumed that I couldn’t.’

‘You never bothered to correct us.’

‘You thought I was a drunken good-for-nothing.’

‘I did not.’

‘I know what you called me. What Combeferre wouldn’t interpret.’

‘I didn’t mean it, I was just upset.’

‘It sure as hell looked like you meant it.’

‘I was just mad, Taire. And you have to admit, I had a good reason to be.’ Grantaire just shook his head and stalked off, not wanting to think about it anymore. Enjolras was right, he had deserved the mean things Enj had called him. He was being a drunken idiot, as usual, but he had taken it too far this time. In the three years that he and Enjolras had been friends, he had never said anything that had pushed him over the edge like this. True, Grantaire always made Enjolras’s temper flare up, but he had never pushed the boy to his breaking point before, not like he had that night.

He made it halfway down the block before the hand was on his shoulder again, this time gently turning him around. The angry look on his face disappeared when he saw Enjolras staring at him with a gentle look in his eyes.

‘I’m so sorry for what I called you,’ Enj signed, praying that the brooding boy would accept his apology. He honestly hadn’t meant to get so mad, but Grantaire had the ability to bring out the best and worst in him all at once. Unfortunately, the worst was what usually showed through. He couldn’t figure out how he even felt about the boy because of it. 

‘You hate me, you’re not sorry.’ Grantaire signed back angrily, trying hard to ignore the hurt look that flashed across his Apollo’s face. He hated that he treated him like this, but he couldn’t help it. He had turned to the drink to forget and drown the deep feelings he had for the boy, but the forgetting came with a cost. He had become addicted to the drink, and it made him angry and cold. He began to lash out at those he loved most. Especially at Enjolras.

‘Taire, I could never hate you,’ Enjolras signed, and he meant it. His love for Grantaire shined brightly in his big blue eyes, plain for the world to see, the only ones oblivious to it were Grantaire and Enjolras himself. Grantaire smiled sadly at the boy who had captured his heart.

‘You should.’

‘Why?’

‘To put it simply, I suck. I’m an alcoholic. Everyone should hate me.’

‘Grantaire, we all know that the drink makes you other than yourself. When you’re sober, you’re the sweetest boy of all the Amis!’

‘Too bad I’m never sober,’ Grantaire signed back with a dry chuckle. He began to turn away from Enjolras, unable to stand seeing the hurt look on his face, but Enjolras pulled him back.

‘Too bad we all learned to love you, anyways. We’re not going to let you walk away from us that easily.’ Enjolras swallowed, a nervous look flitting across his face, followed quickly by a look of realization. His hands flew as he quickly began to sign.

‘I’m not going to let you walk away from _me_ that easily.’ Grantaire’s features contorted in confusion, and he began to sign his reply, but Enjolras quickly cut him off by pulling him into a huge bear hug. 

“I love you,” Grantaire whispered into his ear.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Enjolras stops being so oblivious, they shock their friends, Combeferre just doesn't get it, and Grantaire demands some answers.

It was funny how he wasn’t afraid of those three words when he knew that Enjolras wouldn’t know he said them.

Grantaire had spent the past three years of his life living in fear of those words, drinking and drinking to try and drown out the little voice inside of him that screamed every second of every day, “You love Enjolras!” But even after he had consumed enough alcohol to drown a killer whale, the little voice remained, still shouting ever louder, “You love Enjolras!”

Grantaire never wanted to love him. He knew his life would be easier if he didn’t. But he just couldn’t help it. Loving Enjolras was as natural, easy, and automatic to Grantaire as breathing.

Enjolras pulled back and released him from the hug, grinning widely as things began to fall into place in his brain, and the last three years of his life finally began to make sense.

Suddenly, he knew why Grantaire’s destructive habits had always upset him so much. Why Grantaire’s cynicism and refusal to even attempt sign language had always completely infuriated him to the point where he was seeing spots of red in his vision. 

Everything became so clear, and he was forced to admit to himself that the flame of passion burning deep within him that he felt, was not a flame of hatred. At least, not anymore. 

No, that flame was now burning red hot with desire. 

He turned cherry red as thoughts of Grantaire flooded his brain, and he shook his head in the brisk air to try and clear his mind. 

‘Will you come back with me to the cafe?’ His fingers flew as he signed the words, his breath catching in his throat as he waited for the answer that would tell him whether or not he was forgiven.

Grantaire sighed. If he said yes, then he and Enjolras would probably just fall back into their old pattern of Enjolras ignoring Grantaire, pushing him to drink to excess, which always caused Enjolras’s temper to flare up. But if he said no, he would lose the one thing in the world he had ever truly believed in and cared about.

He made his decision and raised his hands to sign his answer, but before he had a chance to, Courf and Ferre came careening around the corner, nearly crashing into him. 

“Oh thank god! You found him, Enj!” Courf exclaimed, signing his words for Enjolras’s benefit.

“Do you need us to tell him anything for you, Enj?” Ferre asked. Enjolras looked to Grantaire, who shook his head almost imperceptibly, before he signed his answer.

“Can you ask him if he’s over his hissy fit and will come back to the cafe now?” Combeferre interpreted, so focused on Enjolras’s quick hands that he missed the wink Enj gave Grantaire on the words “hissy fit”. Grantaire rolled his eyes and let out a sarcastic chuckle. 

“Tell our fearless leader that I’m done acting like a spoiled brat and I will come back to the stupid meeting. Only if someone gives me my bottle back, though.” A bright smile flashed across Enj’s face, and he waved Courf and Ferre on ahead of them, quickly signing,

‘I’ll make sure he makes it back there, don’t worry.’ Courfeyrac nodded his assent, and Combeferre shot him a questioning look, but did as Enjolras asked. 

‘Why didn’t you want me to tell them you can sign?’ he questioned Grantaire. 

‘Well, I do have a reputation as a hard-hearted cynic to uphold,’ Grantaire signed back with a grin. Enjolras shook his head and laughed silently. 

‘You’re about as hard-hearted as a teddy bear,’ he retorted, and before Grantaire could respond, Enjolras grabbed his hand. He led Grantaire back to the cafe with their fingers intertwined.

***

When they walked into the cafe still tightly clasping each other’s hands, the entire room went silent. Every jaw had dropped from shock. Enjolras and Grantaire didn’t even notice their friends’ reactions, they didn’t even notice they were still holding hands. For them, they were the only two people in the world while their hands were laced together.

“No freaking way,” Eponine breathed out, her voice shattering the silence and causing Grantaire to jump. He and Enjolras dropped their hands and flushed red as they noticed that their friends had noticed.

“He needed some help finding his way back here, he was a bit wobbly,” Courf interpreted Enjolras’s hastily thought up cover story. Grantaire frowned until he saw Enjolras mouth the words ‘I’m sorry’ while their friends weren’t paying attention.

‘Can we talk after the meeting?’ Grantaire signed discreetly. Enjolras nodded once, then tapped Combeferre on the shoulder and began ranting on about the upcoming protest once more.

***

Two hours later, their friends had all filed out of the cafe one by one until only Grantaire, Enjolras, and Combeferre were left. Enjolras and Combeferre were finishing a heated debate, and Grantaire was having a staring contest with his bottle, trying his hardest to pretend that he didn’t know they were silently discussing him in sign language. Well, Enjolras was refusing to talk about him, but Ferre kept asking questions. 

Combeferre was usually the calm and level headed member of their group, but he grew more and more frustrated as Enjolras kept neatly sidestepping his questions. He just wanted to know why his leader had come in clutching the hand of the man he seemed to detest most of all, but Enjolras wouldn’t even come close to answering him. Finally, Ferre grew too exasperated to continue the argument, and said his goodbyes.

‘So why did you want to talk?’ Enjolras signed, turning to Grantaire. Grantaire stopped his pretend staring contest with the wine bottle, stood up and walked over to Enjolras.

‘You held my hand,’ he signed, with a starry eyed and slightly dazed look on his face. Enjolras bit his lip, and this made Grantaire color slightly and stare at the ground. Enjolras tipped his chin up so that he was looking straight into Enjolras’s eyes once more.

‘I did.’

‘Why? I thought you could barely tolerate me.’ Enjolras’s face fell at Grantaire’s words. Was that what the boy really thought? How could he have treated Grantaire so horribly that he thought that Enjolras felt that way?

‘You thought wrong!’ Enjolras signed passionately, desperately wanting to convince Grantaire that it wasn’t true, that he cared about him so much more than that. Grantaire just smiled bitterly and sighed.

‘Did I, Enjolras? Because the way you’ve always treated me would lead me to believe otherwise.’ Grantaire could feel himself growing hot with anger. He didn’t want to fight with Enjolras, and he never meant to. But there was something that the two boys brought out in each other that caused them to always fall into an argument, somehow. Arguing with each other was second nature to them.

Enjolras looked as though he had just been slapped in the face. He felt awful for treating Grantaire like the dirt beneath his feet. He held the cynic up to higher standards than the rest of his friends, don’t ask him why, though. When Grantaire inevitably disappointed him it was like a punch in the gut, and Enjolras always lashed out at him for it. He was a man made out of temper and instinct, often unpredictable.

‘I’m sorry. You just make me so mad, sometimes!’

‘Ah, so it’s all my fault then? How stupid of me, I should have known! As if Apollo himself could ever be at fault for anything!’

‘That isn’t what I meant, Grantaire!’

‘So what did you mean then?’ Their heated argument had brought them closer and closer, until finally they stood only a few inches apart. Grantaire stood rigid, waiting for Enjolras’s response. It was a long beat before Enjolras moved.

He cupped Grantaire’s face in both hands and quickly closed the gap between them. Enjolras gently touched his lips to Grantaire’s and kissed him with all the love, passion, and desire that he had been ignoring for so long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for any mistakes, I'm bad at editing. Also thank you so much for reading!!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which they finally get their happy ending.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I changed to writing in second person for this chapter and you'll see why at the end. Sorry this took ages.

Grantaire stands still in shock for a minute before instinctually responding to your embrace. He places one hand on your waist and pulls you closer while he threads the fingers of his other hand through your obnoxiously curly hair. You move your own hands from his face, throwing your arms around his neck and pulling him closer, closer, so close that you no longer can tell where your body ends and his begins. He deepens the kiss, hesitantly parting your lips with his tongue, afraid that this action will be the end of whatever it is that you two are. You smile. He tastes like cigarettes and too much wine and it’s so different from everything you’ve ever known that it makes you happier than you’ve ever felt. 

That’s when you realize that you love him. You always have, and you always will. He is your sun, your moon, your stars, and you feel like a blind man who’s seeing the light for the first time. He is the only person who can make you truly angry, and he’s the one who makes you the happiest you’ve ever been. He is both infuriating and endearing, and you don’t know whether you love him or hate him for that.

Of all the people you could’ve fallen in love with, he is the least likely. But he’s the only one who ever made sense, at least to you. He is your complete and total opposite, and that’s what makes this work. You are too fiery and temperamental, it would be bad for everyone around you if you were involved with someone too much like yourself. He is the ice that cools your fire, he is steadfast and dependable. You may not be able to rely on him to always follow through on his promises, but you know you can rely on him to always love you with everything he has.

You finally pull back, gasping for air. He follows you reflexively, hurt by the sudden loss of contact. You smile. You know how he feels. You never want to stop touching him, kissing him, being with him. He is your favourite drug, your sole addiction. You know he has many vices, but for some reason, you think that he might finally let you help him release their hold on him. He wraps his arms around your neck, pulling you closer to tell you how much he loves you in the only way he knows how, but you raise your hand to stop him. You need to talk about this, before things go past the point of no return. Then you realize that you wouldn’t mind if they did. But for his sake, you stop him from pressing his mouth against yours once more, and you raise your hands to sign.

‘We shouldn’t do this, we need to talk about it first.’ He laughs, and based on the way his mouth moves, you imagine it sounds like music and bells ringing, the kind of laugh people fall in love with. You frown when you realize that you will never be able to do that. You will never hear the music of his laughter, the richness of his voice, the softness of the sighs that he lets out when he thinks you can’t see him. 

‘You’re the one who initiated it, Enj,’ he signs. There’s a sarcastic smile on his face, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. His eyes shine bright with love and adoration and you colour slightly when you realize that it’s directed at you.

‘I know, but I wasn’t thinking. I got caught up in the moment.’ You feel like the world’s most awful person the second his face falls. He plasters on an aloof, easy grin when he catches you watching. It’s so clearly fake that it hurts your heart, more than you even thought could be possible. You love him so much, you just don’t know how to tell him that. Honestly, you love him more than any words can express. And that scares you a little. But you’ve never been one to run away from what you fear. You need to find a way to express how you feel, before he is convinced that you think this was a mistake. You just wish you were better at talking about your feelings, but you’ve always had a one-track mind, and it was focused on changing the world, not interpersonal relationships.

He’s looking away from you now, his eyes rimmed with red. You wonder if it’s from how much he’s had to drink or if he’s begun to cry. A single tear rolls down his cheek in the form of an answer. You grab his face with both hands and brush the tear away with your thumb before kissing him hard on the mouth. He pulls away and looks back at you with wonder in his shining blue eyes as a dazzling grin erupts on his face. 

‘I thought-’ he begins to sign, but you grab his hands, cutting him off.

‘I think that I might be a little bit madly in love with you.’ He laughs at your paradoxical sentence before responding. Your cheeks flush. You hadn’t meant to say it so awkwardly, but you can’t think straight when he looks at you like that.

‘I know that I am truly, madly, deeply, foolishly, completely, desperately in love with you, Apollo.’ His excessive use of adjectives makes you smile like an idiot. Actually, you have been smiling like an idiot pretty much nonstop since the second you kissed him. He clasps your hands tightly and pulls you back into his arms. You bury your head in his chest, revelling in his scent and he rests his chin on top of your head. The two of you stand like that for a minute, just being comfortable in each other’s presence.

You pull away from him with an ear to ear grin, catch his hand in yours, and all but run out of the Musain. There’s probably a look of utter confusion on his face, but you don’t care. He’s finally yours, you’ve finally gotten the one thing you wanted most of all, and you don’t want to wait one more second. You practically drag him the short distance from the Musain to your apartment. He manages to stop you in front of your building and twists you around so you’re looking at him. You frown when he pulls his hand from your grasp.

‘What are you doing?’ he questions you, a look of perplexion contorting his pretty features. You bite your lip, trying to keep your mouth from forming a suggestive grin, but you don’t think that you were entirely successful. 

‘You’ll see,’ you sign, and grab his hand once more. You run up the first two flights of stairs before he manages to stop you again.

‘What floor do you live on?’ You try to focus on the words that he’s signing, but you can’t help staring at the rebellious inky black curl that escaped from his wild mane of hair and is hanging down over his bright blue eye.

‘Six,’ you respond, once you tear your gaze away from eyes so captivatingly blue that you question their legality. He frowns.

‘So why didn’t we take the elevator?’ You resist the urge to laugh at his question, reminding yourself that he doesn’t live here, he’s never been to your apartment before, none of your friends have, so how could he possibly know? You point to the elevator doors, blocked by an ‘x’ made out of police caution tape. 

‘It’s been out of order ever since some scientist dude on the fourth floor broke it like ten years ago while doing a rocket experiment or something like that? At least that’s what the blond girl who lives across the hall from him told me when I moved in.’ He laughs.

‘Your luck is almost as bad as Bossuet’s!’ You stick your tongue out and begin to pull him up the stairs, only releasing his hand from your vice like grip when you reach the door to apartment 6A and you have to pull out your key. You fumble with the key in the lock, suddenly nervous and unsure of yourself. Grantaire is right there, a step behind you, his breath warm on the back of your neck. You can’t believe you’re doing this, what on earth possessed you and made you think this was a good idea? What if he doesn’t want you like this?

The key finally turns in the lock, and you push open the door to your sparsely decorated apartment. You walk in and turn around, smiling at the wonder on Grantaire’s face as he stares at your living room, the books scattered over every available surface, seemingly haphazardly. You both know that you do nothing haphazardly, and have a more intricate method for organizing your massive library than the appearance of your apartment lets on.

‘This is where you live, Enjolras?’ His mouth forms a perfect ‘o’ when you grab his hands and tug him into the room, slamming the door shut behind him. You push him up against the wall and start kissing him, hard. He pulls back, gasping for breath. You smile against his lips when his mouth finds yours again. You lead him to your bedroom, never once breaking the embrace, navigating your apartment perfectly from memory. You finally break away from him to roughly push him down on the bed. He stares back at you, eyes dark with lust and wide with surprise, as you straddle his hips and pull his shirt over his head. You rip off your own shirt and begin to fumble with his belt. He grabs your wrists to stop you.

‘Enjolras, what are you doing?’

‘What do you _think_ I’m doing, Grantaire?’ He blushes furiously.

‘Are you sure that this is what you want?’ he asks, worry in his eyes. You give him a reassuring smile.

‘More sure than I’ve ever been of anything in my entire life,’ you tell him, then cover his delighted grin with your mouth, kissing him hungrily.

The sunlight is pouring through the window, as the two of you lay naked in your bed, soaked in sweat, and panting, his arms wrapped around you like he’s never letting go. You pull away from him, laughing at the hurt look on his face.

‘I love you, Grantaire.’

‘I love you, too, Enjolras.’ You smile as the sunlight glows around him, illuminating him like an angel, your angel, his hands signing the words you most desperately want to be able to hear. He says them at the same time, and it is just the slightest bit bittersweet watching his mouth form the words you’ll never hear him say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't hate me for that. This is the end of this story, but I am not opposed to writing drabbles in this verse if there is enough of you who want to see some. The feedback on this so far has been amazing, and thank you so much! This was the first Les Mis fic I ever wrote, and I really appreciate all the support you guys gave me. Let me know what you think! Also please forgive me for any errors, this took ages to write, so I think I took care of any errors in the process. If I didn't get them all, I apologize.


End file.
